They ask "How's your wife?"
But they don't understand.
He also affected my life.
I picture him on a football team.
Who knows,maybe number 13
But now it's all just a dream.
I'm not supposed to show any
emotions or cry
I'm supposed to take it like a man
But sometimes I wish I could die.
I'll never know the bruised knee
His first kiss or broken heart
Not ever "Dad,can I have the car key?"
I'm expected to keep all of this
bottle up inside.
That wasn't just fetal tissue or a
nonviable pregnancy.
He was my only son that died.
But life continues,although I am
sad.
You'll never understand my pain
or tear in my eyes
Because to you
I'm just the Dad.
By Dennis VanDerWoude
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